


The Seventeenth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [17]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Seventeenth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Seventeenth Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and varied

Author's disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, these tidbits aren't mine.  
Anyone who sues over this stuff, needs their head examined.  


Pairing: J/B -- mostly!  
Rating: The whole range 

* * *

Tidbit #1

The minute he stepped inside the loft, he knew something was wrong. The smell in the air: bitter, acidic, making his hackles rise instinctively. Even the air seemed too still, the artificial feel of calm when a tornado is building somewhere near. 

By the time he closed the door, his hand was already moving toward his gun. It took a moment to recognize that there was no one here who wasn't supposed to be. No danger. 

"Chief?" Jim called cautiously, letting his sidearm slide back into the holster. 

In a moment Blair popped his head out of what had been his room until not terribly long ago, arms filled with papers. "Yeah?" He didn't smile, which was in itself odd. 

"You okay?" Jim sniffed the air; the acid smell was stronger. Anger. And fear. "What's going on?" 

Blair blinked at him. "Nothing," he said shortly. He brushed by Jim and chucked the entire pile of loose sheets of paper into the large kitched trash bin. "At least not any more," he added tightly. 

Jim walked over to touch Blair gingerly on the shoulder. "Did I miss something here? What's up, Chief?" 

"You're gonna think I'm nuts." Blair's cheeks were scarlet. "And I've just like totally overreacted to this, and just leave it, okay?" 

Jim narrowed his eyes, and then grinned. "What? That smart-ass student in your MWF class mouth off again? You trashing all his term papers or something?" 

Blair shot him a startlingly angry glare. "No," he bit off. 

Jim sighed. "Then what, baby?" He reached out and slid his hands over Blair's tight shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. "You know you wanna tell me," he said, leaning forward until his lips brushed Blair's ear. "You're the one who's always talking about communication. So communicate." 

"You're gonna laugh." Blair's voice sounded dull, oddly lifeless, and Jim turned him around until they stood face-to-face. 

"I'm not laughing, Blair," Jim said, shaking his head. "What is it?" 

A long moment of silence, while Blair stood rigid under Jim's hands. Then finally he sighed explosively. "I got my tape of the show today." 

Jim blinked. "The show?" 

"You know. The one we stopped getting locally. A friend sends me tapes." 

"Okay," Jim said after a doubtful pause. "And this is why you're upset?" 

Blair shrugged away. "You don't understand," he muttered, striding into the kitchen and banging open a cabinet. "They killed off Jerry." He took out a glass and then simply held it, glaring at Jim. 

"Jerry?" Jim smiled blankly, and then reached out to catch Blair's arm when he rolled his eyes and tried to get past him. "Hang on a minute. Jerry. That's the one you were talking about, isn't it? The one with the shady past?" 

Blair gave him a look that said he hadn't expected Jim to remember even that much about a television show, and nodded. "Yeah. He's the one that spent all that time brainwashed. Just started breaking free a couple of eps ago." 

Jim waited a moment, and when Blair didn't continue, said, "And they what? Killed him off, you said?" 

"It's stupid," Blair groaned. He slumped against the counter. "It's just a tv show. I know that. It's fantasy. I shouldn't be upset. He was a red shirt all season." 

"Red shirt?" 

"You know. Star Trek. He was the fifth crewman, you know? Doomed." 

Jim nodded knowledgeably, mystified. "I -- I'm sorry, Chief," he mumbled awkwardly. He touched Blair's cheek with one finger. "I mean, that sucks." 

"Yeah," Blair agreed gloomily. "It sure does." 

"It's just --" 

"-- a show." Blair smiled tightly. "I know." 

For the next ten minutes Jim watched Blair prowl around the loft, never settling for more than a few seconds, giving off the same anger/sad pheromones as before. Finally it was enough. 

"So tell me about this show." 

The request stopped Blair in his tracks. "Huh?" 

Jim shrugged, and patted the cushion next to him on the sofa. "Tell me about Jerry," he repeated patiently. "Tell me about the show. Maybe I can -- get what you're talking about." 

"Oh, man, Jim, it's such a cool show." Blair flopped onto the couch and grinned. To Jim it was like sunshine emerging after rain. He wanted to bask in it, glow. "But you can't -- I mean, it's an arc storyline, you can't just jump in. It would take me, like, forever to fill you in." 

"You have tapes, don't you?" 

Blair nodded. "Yeah..." 

"So play one. Show me." 

Blair stared at him, and then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay, sure, I \--" He broke off. "You sure you want to watch?" 

Jim leaned over to place a firm kiss on Blair's mouth. "Anything you feel this passionate about?" He grinned against Blair's lips. "I definitely have to get to know. I've been sharing you with this damn show for months. 'Bout time I got a look at the competition." 

"Competition?" Blair nibbled on Jim's lower lip before placing a fast, hard kiss on Jim's mouth. "Jerry's cute," he murmured lightly. "But competition he ain't." 

"I'll be the judge of that." 

"I can think of better things to do than watch old eps." 

"You can?" Jim asked innocently. 

"If I were you I'd be taking off that damn tie. Unless you want to wear it in a slightly different way, very soon." 

"This sounds like a definite threat to my honor." 

"Definite." 

* * *

Two months later... 

"Jim? Jim, you home?" 

Blair blinked at the darkened loft. From the murky shadows he saw something move, and made out Jim's faint outline. "Jim?" 

"Yeah." 

The voice was so desolate, Blair's knees went shaky. "Are you okay?" he blurted, stumbling against the couch in his haste to reach Jim's side. "Is something wrong?" 

"I should have gone with you." 

Blair fumbled until he felt Jim's solid presence in the dark. Jim's hand was icy. "With me?" Blair repeated, still spooked. "What's going on, Jim? Man, you're scaring me here, what --" 

"He should never have trusted Parkins. He knew better! What was he thinking?" 

Blair paused, and then felt a tiny, sympathetic smile curl the corners of his mouth. He rubbed Jim's cold hand between his own. "I know," he said softly. "Sucks, doesn't it?" 

Jim said nothing. "You watched the rest of the tapes while I was gone, didn't you?" Blair continued quietly. "You got caught up." 

"Wasn't I just telling you this was 'just a show' a little while back?" Jim produced a hollow, humorless laugh. 

"Sometimes -- they aren't just a show, Jim. They get pretty real." 

"Yeah. Is he really dead?" 

Blair leaned against Jim, feeling the other man's arm slide around his waist, welcoming him home finally. "I don't know. We'll find out next season." 

"How long is that?" Jim asked immediately, in a hard voice. 

"About three more months, man. You better start reading fanfic. You're never gonna make it otherwise." 

He could see Jim's face now, a vague blur in the darkness. "Fanfic?" 

Blair nodded slowly. "Remember that stuff I was throwing out, a couple of months ago? Stories people have written, about Jerry and the rest of the crew." 

"You threw it away?" 

Blair laughed. "Actually, I never did. I went back later on and put it all back in the binder. Glad I didn't throw it out." 

A moment's silence, and then Jim sighed faintly. "So you -- ahh -- still have it, then?" 

"That and more. Jerry's definitely not dead in fanfic, Jim. And the show's coming back. There'll be more." 

Then Jim kissed him, and there wasn't much more talking for a while. 

A good three-hour-long while. 

"You know," Blair said at one point, looking up from where he lay exploring Jim's sweat-gleaming chest with slow, careful hands. "If you like that one, there's this show you would absolutely love. It's this space station, see, and it's a five-year arc, and there's --" 

"Sandburg." 

"Um -- yeah, Jim?" 

"I'll watch this one. But don't you even think about anything else." 

"It's just a show, Jim. They're all just shows." 

"Right. This one isn't." 

"No, it's not." 

"I say we forget about Jerry for the moment. Weren't you busy before you sidetracked us?" 

"You are a really greedy son of a bitch, Ellison, you know that?" 

"Shut up and kiss me." 

\--end-- 

Em 

* * *

Tidbit #2

AU-Snippet (My first) 

Jim cries out Blair's name and wakes up in a cold sweat. 

Blair comes flying up the stars followed more calmly by Naomi. "Jim, Jim, man, what's the matter? Are you OK?" 

With a sigh of relief and choked laughter Jim grabs Blair into a hug whispering "You're alive! Thank God, your alive!" 

Naomi gently lays her hand on Jim's shoulder saying, "Jim, sweetie, he has to breathe. Let him breathe." 

After a gulp of air, Blair mouths, "Thanks, Mom" and with a wink and a loving smile Naomi goes back down stairs. 

"Hey Jim, Jim, are you with me?" 

"I hear you, Blair. I, I guess I had a bad dream." 

"Look, man, I'm ok, I'm OK." 

"So I see," says Jim without letting go of Blair's arms. Sniff. Sniff. "Hey, chief, what's that smell?" 

"Now, Jim, it's not sage! Naomi swore it wasn't sage. It's something new to cleans the house with. Why, is it messing with your sinuses or your sense of smell?" 

"No, no I just feel a little light headed is all. Blair, your wet? Why are you all wet?" 

;-) 

Annie 

* * *

Tidbit #3

**OBSENAD:**

Once Blair is recovered, Alex is killed and Jim has snuggled his Guppy safely into bed (the big one upstairs)... 

Blair tried to pull back out of Jim's embrace, but his Sentinel was still scared. Until Jim calmed, Blair figured he wasn't going anywhere. 

Still, he twisted around enough so Jim rolled onto his back, letting Blair finally breathe. 

"Jim, it's ok. I'm back. And I'm not going anywhere. Not for a long, long time." 

Jim just squeezed harder, forcing all the air out of his lungs again. 

//Ok, reassurance is not working, let's try distraction. That should at least prevent suffication.// 

As soon as he could catch a breath, Blair lifted his head to stare down into sad blue eyes. 

"Hey, I didn't get to tell you who I met, did I? I mean, while I was gone." 

//Oooo, crap. That was subtle. Nice job, idjit.// 

But Jim smiled slightly. 

"Of course you met someone. You are _always_ meeting someone. Who was it this time?" 

"My Spirit Guide. I have one, too. It was, like, _so_ cool. It's this big, grey..." 

"Wolf. Yeah, I saw it also." 

Blair's eyes widened. 

"No way! That's so great!" 

Jim's eyes dimmed again, and he pulled Blair close. Blair simply snuggled down, resting his head on the strong, broad chest. 

"I'm just glad it was a wolf. I had a girlfriend once who thought it would be a cute, fuzzy rabbit." 

Jim's hold loosened as he tried to look his Guide in the face. 

"A rabbit? You?" 

Blair frowned. 

"Yeah, and not even a Jackrabbit, but a cottontail. I mean, I don't buy into that whole macho crap, but _Thumper_? That was embarassing." 

And then Blair heard the sound he'd missed and treasured most. 

A Sentinel laughing his ass off. 

Elizabeth 

* * *

Tidbit #4

Jim Ellison was jerked awake and upright by the sound of his lover's fist impacting the table in what used to be his room downstairs, followed by 'damn'. 

"I am toast." The heartfelt sigh reached up to the Sentinel as if his Guide was beside him. 

"Sandburg?" he called out. 

"I am well burnt toast." Another whisper followed his call prompting Ellison down the stairs to Blair's study. 

"Blair?" 

"I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean to wake you up, it's just that my ISP got the best of me again and I am gonna be in so much trouble tomorrow." 

"Huh? Baby, I just woke up and I don't have a clue what you're talking about." Jim ran his hand over his face in an attempt to get his brain to catch up with his body. 

"I've told you I've been having trouble with my Online service - my ISP?" Blair maneuvered past his lover into the living room to give himself more room to pace. 

"Oh! Yeah." Jim turned in place to follow his personal Energizer bunny with his eyes. 

"Well, they just did me again. I thought that I had sent off this really scathing repudiation to the Anthro list that I'm on about 3 weeks ago but I never got any replies and I never saw it on my digest." Blair's hands flew around his body like demented birds ending by slapping down on his thighs. 

"What? What digest?" He moved forward trying to herd his lover towards the couch. 

"Instead of getting a billion individual emails, I get the list in digest form. You know all strung together by the listmom. " Blair eluded him and headed toward the kitchen area. "Anyway, I thought that I had sent this off as a flash mail while the subject was relevant to the group, but tonight while I was sending off some stuff to my department head I noticed that the repudiation was just being sent tonight. I will never hear the end of it. It's the end of my academic career. I'm ruined as an anthropologist." 

The younger man ended by thumping his head down on the end of the kitchen island. The Sentinel winced in sympathy and moved to his distraught friend to rub his back in soothing circles. 

"Can't you just send them another email explaining what just happened? I mean these people are suppose to be your intellectual equals, right?" Jim practically cooed to his lover. "They'll understand." 

"You think?" Blair rolled his head to the side and peeped up at the older man through his curls. 

"You would, wouldn't you?" 

"Yeah." 

"So go send them the explanation and then meet me upstairs." Jim bumped his burgeoning erection into Blair's butt. 

"I'm lonely, and horny, and I've got plans for you " He let the growl taper off as he turned and headed for the stairs. His lover didn't see the smile that curled the corners of his mouth when he heard Blair's hard swallow and the increase in his heart rate. 

"Yeah, Sure uh I'll be there in under 10, Big Guy." 

\--end-- 

Georgia 

* * *

Tidbit #5

**"DAMNNIT!"**

"What's wrong, Chief?" Jim had heard this particular tone of frustation before from his Guide but it had always been aimed at him, not at the laptop Blair was currently pounding into oblivion. 

"You know that internet service I signed up with? The one most of my friends are on and they have these really cool chats and I can't participate in them unless I'm a member of the service?" Blair's hands stopped slamming the keyboard long enough to fly around puctuating the words spewing from the grad student. 

"Um, yeah. So?" As crazy as it seemed, sometimes Jim enjoyed these rants. As long as they weren't aimed at him. 

"Every time, man, EVERY TIME, I get up to get a cup of coffee or to go to the bathroom or get a book from the study I get BOOTED!! And I'm tired of it!! I HAVE to multitask. It's what I do!" 

Jim looked at the dining room table, seeing at _least_ four or five different projects his hyper lover was working on, then around the loft, seeing another three or four undertakings in various stages of production. There were tests to be graded, essays to be read, articles waiting to be devoured, books with sticky post it notes marking reference sites, stew bubbling on the stove and the television was showing a documentary on the whatis tribe. 

Stepping closer to his lover, Jim wrapped his arms around the tornado that had completly taken over his life. Nuzzling the spot on Blair's neck certain to get a rise out of the young man, he softly said "Why don't we go upstairs and you can practice your multitasking on me?" 

With a snort, Blair turned around his blue eyes dancing with laughter. "Think you can keep up with me, Old Man?" 

"Just watch." Promising. 

McVey 

* * *

Tidbit #6

Telemarketing Fun 

"No, I do not want to try your product.... I don't care what you're selling.... NO! Look, it's _not_ free...." Jim's voice rose to a yell. "Quit calling here!" 

He slammed down the receiver and looked up into laughing blue eyes. "It's not funny, Chief. I've been home all day, and six different people have called here trying to sell me the same damned thing." 

Blair laughed harder. "Jim, just relax. I'll get the phone for the rest of the night." 

Jim grumbled under his breath, but went about making supper. 

Less than an hour later, the phone rang. 

Blair jumped up, beating Jim to it. "I said I'd take care of it. You get," he said, making shooing motions with his hand. 

Jim stepped back, but didn't leave. 

He picked up the receiver with a grin of anticipation. "Hello?" 

"Congratulations. You've been chosen to receive a _free_ trial subscription to 'Vacationers Monthly'. 

Blair watched Jim cringe at the sound of the too-high female voice and knew he was listening. This was going to be fun. 

"Really? Cool." 

"Yes. You were randomly chosen from a list of people who've purchased from us in the past. Our way of saying thank you." 

"Great. What are you wearing?" he asked without skipping a beat. 

Jim's eyes went wide. 

"...uh... I'm--uh--wearing jeans and a T-shirt," she fumbled. Then, getting her bearings, she continued with the script. "We just need some information from you and we can get your prize right out to you." 

"Jeans and a T-shirt? Oh man, that is _so_ boring. Honey, are there any men there with you? I'm sure you're very pretty, but you're just not my type." 

Blair fought back laughter as Jim went red to the roots of his hair, and his mouth dropped open in shock. He was so busy watching Jim that he almost missed what the woman on the other end of the phone said next. 

"I.... I.... I'll have to call you back, sir," she rushed, clearly flustered.  <snick>

Blair laughed evilly and hung up the phone. "And another one bites the dust. See, Jim _that's_ how you get rid of them, and it's fun, too. I'll bet anything you won't hear from _them_ again; that scratching sound you hear is your name being erased from their databanks." 

Jim's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. "I don't believe you did that." 

Blair laughed again. 

"And what was this about her not being your type?" 

Blair felt himself flushing under Jim's speculative gaze. "Uh...nothing. I was just trying to get her off-balance. That's all." He turned back to the living room, avoiding Jim's eyes. 

"Uh huh. Supper's almost ready. Get the plates out, would you?" Jim asked, absently. 

Jim's hand came out to grab him by the arm as he started past. 

"And after supper? We need to talk." 

\--end-- 

Nita 

* * *

Tidbit #7

WARNINGS: This was inspired in part by the Aussie half of the SOS contingent, and in part by several ongoing, irreverent IRC discussions which I will not, on pain of death, be repeating here. Uh... this might get a bit (read as: a lot) icky. <grin> Don't read this over lunch, folks...Saraid, you should enjoy this... There's death, but where is it written that we have to take death SERIOUSLY, huh??? 

Therefore, I give you "Whistling in the Dark", a sweetly comical DEATH STORY about the survival of hope against impossible odds and a friendship that will last beyond the grave... 

...that is, if it should ever get there in the first place...<grin>. You Have Been Warned! 

Whistling in the Dark I  
by  
Merry Lynne 

Simon paced in front of his desk, cigar smoke drifting in a steady stream from his nostrils as he struggled to remain calm. //Breathe,// Blair would've told him. Blair was always on about the virtues of breathing. Pity the kid couldn't have remembered that bit of advice when it counted. 

It wasn't enough that he'd walked into Jim's life, grabbed him by the throat, and laid down the law. It wasn't enough that he'd finagled his way into the detective's loft, into his life, into his heart. Oh, no. Sandburg didn't do things half-way. He'd had to go for the grand slam, the whole enchilada, the final indignity. 

He'd had to drive Jim Ellison right out of his fucking mind. 

Drooling, he could've handled. Hell, they'd practically drooled over each other when both of them were still _alive_. A little drooling might actually be comforting right now, a glassy stare, something Simon could _work_ with. Something somebody could for God's sake _prescribe_ for. 

Anything but this, the bright-eyed, sharp-sensed, utterly sane laser of intelligence and intensity Jim was directing at him now from his seat atop the conference table. It was downright scary the way he could look at you sometimes, Simon thought. Still, it was better than the steady, glazed stare of his partner. 

Simon was trying _really_ hard not to think about -- or look at -- Jim's partner. 

"Jim," he said, trying for a rational tone. 

"Simon, I know what you're going to say." 

"No, Jim, I really don't think you do." 

"I know this sounds crazy. I know it _looks_ crazy. But Sandburg and I...we have this connection, we've always had it. Simon, that scene at the fountain... I _know_ that's not the way it was supposed to end." 

"I think your use of the phrase 'supposed to' is terminologically problematic." 

"He's not dead, Simon." Jim's voice was low, intent, fraught with layers of mysticism and meaning that, quite frankly, put Simon off his lunch. "There's too much left for us to do. I need him with me. He's the only one I can trust, you _know_ that. He understands what I'm going through. Right, Chief?" Jim tugged at Blair's hair; the resultant motion was vaguely reminiscent of a nod. 

"Okay," the captain said, looking away quickly, feeling reality tip dizzily under his feet. "So...let's just say he's _not_ dead, for now. He doesn't quite fall into the category of 'alive', either, now, does he? I mean... those senses of yours... there's...still no...?" He couldn't even say it. 

"I heard his heart at the fountain," Jim insisted. He leaned forward, a gentle hand squeezing Sandburg's shoulder. The reassurance would've been sweet if not for the slight, sickening _squish_ it made. "I heard it very clearly." 

Simon mentally rescheduled lunch for three-thirty. _Next_ Friday. "Which would make his current heart rate...?" 

"One beat every 4207 minutes and fifteen seconds. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen--" 

"Ellison!" 

Jim jumped a little, and shook his head. The motion jarred Sandburg's chair slightly; a still, cold hand slid off the kid's lap. Jim readjusted his partner absently, patting his arm. "Sorry, Simon. I was just listening." 

"Right." Simon stopped pacing and fell heavily into the chair behind his desk. He felt _green_. "Right." 

"He used to talk to me really quietly, so nobody else could hear," the sentinel said softly, a faraway look in his eyes. 

"And does he still?" 

Jim glanced up sharply. "Don't patronize me, Simon. You know he doesn't." 

Simon was just grateful that _Jim_ knew. "Okay, okay, sorry..." 

"He still ticked off that I threw him out of the loft," Ellison continued wistfully. "He'll talk to me when he's ready..." 

~ to be continued ~ 

(Uh, that's as in _really_ continued, not this "maybe, possibly, if we feel like it" definition UPN is using) 

\--Merry "if it ain't dark, it ain't humor" Lynne (the devil made me do it!) 

* * *

Tidbit #8

Re: Viagra and the idea of counting the pills to make sure he stays faithful. <eg>

Obsenad: 

Jim: Blair, what's wrong? Why are you leaving me? 

Blair: When you left the loft this morning there were ten pills and now <sob> there are only eight. I'm moving in with Simon! 

Heapster 

* * *

End Sentinel Tidbits file #17.

 


End file.
